Sona
by LetItRain25
Summary: "We both want out, and he's our ticket. We all work together, we all get out," T-Bag concludes. An alternate take on how Michael is brought into Sona, and how Alex becomes his protector.


Hello everyone! So, this is kind of an alternate way for Michael to be introduced to the realm of Sona. Mostly, it's just my excuse for some Hurt!Michael and Comforting!Alex. I love these two characters soooo much. There's also quite a lot of T-Bag in the beginning, for which I apologize.

This is going to sound ridiculous, but in an effort to actually make me finish some of the stories I have started writing, I promised myself I would post one story a month. Since it's the last hour on the last day of the month, I'm obviously cutting it close….But I did it! Kind of…. I apologize for the abrupt ending. I would really like to eventually turn this into part of a longer piece, but for now this is a stand-alone fic. The story is un-beta'd so any mistakes are my own.

Also, there's a warning for strong language... I blame Alex Mahone.

And of course, I own nothing.

Anywho…Thanks for reading! I hope you like it Please feel free to leave a comment/favorite.

Sona

Alex is hot, tired, and every other form of miserable that exists. How the fuck did he end up here? Killing Chase was…unfortunate, but he'd be lying if he said he was sorry. Which leaves him the main reason he's here: Michael Fucking Scofield.

He shakes his head, dispensing of the thought he's had 100 times since arriving. There's no point in thinking about that now.

"Well, if it isn't the illustrious Agent Mahone."

Alex jumps at hearing the slimy voice, turning to face T-Bag. He figures that if he is going to be in hell, it's at least fitting that T-Bag is here too.

"What the fuck do you want?" Alex shoots back. Just because he wants T-Bag here, doesn't mean he has to want to be near him.

"Just wondering how a federal agent is adjusting to life here in Panama," T-Bag responds, walking up around Mahone, circling him at a 180-degree half-circle. Alex refuses to give him the satisfaction of showing how much the action makes his skin crawl.

"It's charming, nice area, good food. The neighbors lack something to be desired, though," Alex responds, sarcasm dripping off the words as he eyes T-Bag with pointed disdain.

"How was detox?" T-Bag throws back. "Don't act like you better than anyone here, Mister Law Man," T-Bag states, crawling his way into Alex's space, "You belong here just as much as anyone else."

"What. Do. You. Want?" Alex retorts, slamming T-Bag against the cell bars, pushing against the other man so close that their noses are practically touching.

T-Bag heaves a put-upon sigh and rolls his eyes. Alex almost smirks at how hard the other man is working to appear nonchalant.

"I was wondering if you were interested in leaving this humble abode any time soon?" T-Bag responds.

"What are you talking about?" Alex demands, releasing the man and returning to lean against the wall, looking out at the yard.

People are starting to mill around outside, small pockets collecting on the edges of the yard. Food had been handed out yesterday, so technically there was no reason for everyone to congregate in the yard this evening, aside from the fact that the sun is starting to set, and that usually means people start to get…. restless.

"I take it you haven't seen who's in the hotbox?" T-Bag intones, a grin splitting his face.

Alex glares in response. The hotbox is on the opposite side of the prison. Sona is basically a third-world prison and though it may be left under internal regulation, so-to-speak, there are still rules that must be followed. For example, Lechero runs the prison, and his team gets the East side of the prison. The gates take up the North side of the prison, the showers are on the South. That means the outcasts, those not accepted into Lechero's fold, are relegated to the West side of the prison. As a former FBI agent, Alex was dubbed a potential problem-child by the gangster, and immediately shoved into a shitty cell on the West side.

He can see into the yard, but Alex knows enough to know that's so Lechero's guys can keep an eye on him. In other words, the hotbox is on the opposite of the prison, which means that it may as well be on the other side of the country.

"They've had someone in the guard house all week," T-Bag continues smugly, aware that Alex would have no way of knowing anything. "Been listening to him scream, but didn't really think too much about it. Just figured something like that was part of the ambiance in a place like this," he continues, now starting to slowly pace in the front of Alex's cell. "Finally, though, they drag his ass out to the box. And lo and behold if it ain't our _favorite_ mutual acquaintance."

Alex bites back his retort, instead turning his head to the side as he takes a moment to process what T-Bag is getting at.

"Fuck," he huffs, running his fingers through his hair as he realizes there's only one person T-Bag could be referring to.

"Why are you telling me this?" Alex questions, eyes piercing into T-Bag.

"Ah, now, don't play dumb," T-Bag says, sauntering up to Alex, more swagger than walk, as he wags his finger at Alex.

"I don't exactly think he's going to be jumping at the bit to tell me his escape plans. And that's assuming he actually has any escape plans," Alex bites out.

"I think a few days in here will motivate him sufficiently, don't you Agent? A man like Michael has, well, _specific_ tastes," T-Bag starts. Alex considers everything he knows about Scofield, quickly deducing that the noise, smells, and atmosphere aren't going to be things Scofield will be able to adapt to easily.

"And as I'm sure you've noticed by now, there ain't exactly a whole lot to do in this particular part of town. A man like Michael Scofield might not be able to avoid coming up with a plan, even if he means to avoid such things," T-Bag continues. "None of that will matter, though, if our dear friend doesn't live long enough to come up with a plan. And, as I learned from our previous excursion, the more useful we can make ourselves, the more likely we are to be allowed to partake in whatever plan he may develop."

Alex takes a moment to actually listen to what T-Bag is saying, something he's normally adamantly against doing. He runs through a dozen possibilities, only able to come up with one conclusion, as outlandish as it may be.

"You want me to protect Michael Fucking Scofield," Alex announces incredulously.

"You protect him on your half of the world, since we both know he won't be getting the invite to Lechero's crew, and I'll provide the resources from my half of the world," T-Bag continues.

"You want me to _protect_ Michael. Fucking. Scofield," Alex says, mentally resisting every part of this idea, from working with T-Bag to protecting the man who ruined his life.

"I ain't exactly thrilled at the idea either, Mahone," T-Bag all but growls out. "I don't want to have to work with you any more than you want to work with me, but you need my resources, and I need you to protect Michael," T-Bag continues.

"We both want out, and he's our ticket. We all work together, we all get out," T-Bag concludes, voice switching from slimy to businessman at the drop of a hat.

"And what makes you think I can protect him?" Alex asks, eyes hard.

"Well, I certainly can't protect him from the opposite side of the prison," T-Bag drawls. "Look, you were isolated because of the, shall we say, status of your former life. Michael is practically famous and that is the opposite of what he needs to be. Lechero will view him as a potential trouble-maker at best; a threat at worst. This puts him in an unfortunate position. And though Michael is pretty as all get-out, he is, unfortunately, not violently inclined," T-Bag says, pausing in his pacing to place piercing eyes on Alex.

"Make no mistake, Mister Law Man, Michael Scofield will need protection. I've seen your previous displays of aggression here in Sona-big fan of your work by the way-and I know that you'll be more than capable. I'm hoping that if your general _moral_ sense doesn't force you to care for the young gentleman, that your desire to leave this hell-hole might be more motivating," T-Bag says, hands up to indicate the current surroundings.

"What makes you think he'll let me protect him," Alex says. He's irritated, because so far everything T-Bag has said is true. He wants out, and maybe, given enough time he could come up with something, but this is the only way he gets the resources he needs from Lechero's team. He's also acutely aware that while he may despise Scofield, there's more than one reason for the younger man to return the sentiment.

"He's been in the hot box for 2 days now, and that's after spending a week with the guards. They'll drag him in here, and by that point I don't see that our young friend will have much a choice in the matter," T-Bag explains as if the answer should be obvious. Alex supposes it should be, but he's tired dammit.

Alex takes a deep breath, finding it does nothing to calm his frayed nerves.

"I'll think about it," he responds tightly.

"See ya around, Agent," T-Bag says, smug smile indicating he knows Alex has already agreed.

Alex huffs, turning out to the yard. He doesn't sleep at all that night, anxiety and excitement roiling in a way that he'd previously only experienced while tracking down a bad guy. In a way, he figures that's the game he would be playing—trying to manipulate the bad guy into making the right call. The only problem being that Alex isn't entirely sure which one is the bad guy in this scenario.

PBPBPBPBPBPBPBP

Alex has resigned himself to the plan two days later. He's a smart man, and on some level he knows that Michael (fucking Scofield…he's still working on the name) isn't the only reason Alex's life is ruined: Alex had managed to ruin his marriage without much help from the younger man, after all. Scofield (maybe he'll just stick with the last name for now) setting him up is the reason he's in this particular prison, though, and that's the part he's struggling to deal with.

He's willing to accept that Scofield isn't exactly enjoying the experience either, and is in fact probably managing to enjoy it less than the detoxing former FBI agent. Alex doesn't find that as satisfying as he'd hoped. Turns out that T-Bag was right in his belief that Alex's morals would sneak up on him even here.

On some level, he'd always genuinely liked Scofield. He presented a challenge, sure, but one that was motivated by the desire to protect his family. Alex could understand that on a fundamental level.

Chasing Michael was nearly the only time Alex felt human for most of the last year. He's hoping that will be true even in Sona.

Though it may take Alex two days to accept his fate, it takes three days total until he actually sees the man in question. T-Bag was right ( _again_ ) in his assessment that they would move Michael the next day. Unfortunately, the guards hauled him back to the guard house instead of the main prison.

Michael spends the next two days experiencing the Sona solitary experience before being introduced to the Sona main event.

Alex had spent every morning since speaking with T-Bag waiting by the gate. To be fair, he'd done that most mornings since arriving. He was used to waking up early, and there weren't exactly a lot of places to go in the prison.

That's why, though, on the third day, when the gates open and the guards drag in a heap that is vaguely man-shaped, Alex is one of the only ones there to greet them.

The guards drop the man before hastily retreating, as is their usual custom.

Alex growls as another inmate runs up to Michael, starting to do a pocket-search on the new prisoner.

Alex grabs the man by the collar, tossing him to the side and glaring down the other inmates looking to check out the new guy.

Alex staking his claim is temporarily effective, and he's able to approach Michael without any competition. Unfortunately, he knows that the calm won't last long, and he's going to have to move the younger man. Michael is injured, undoubtedly in more ways that Alex's cursory glance is able to see, but leaving him here any longer is not an option.

He apologizes, aware that Michael isn't aware enough to understand him, and then he lifts the younger man up in a fireman's carry, bringing him into his own cell.

They're in Alex's cell before Michael makes a sound. He grunts softly as Alex readjusts him to lay him on the cot. Alex is as gentle as he can be, but the pained whimper Michael gives as his back touches the mattress indicates it wasn't gentle enough.

"Shhh, you're ok," Alex soothes softly.

Michael's face is a mess, blood and bruises mottled together in a morbid mesh of flesh.

"Jesus," Alex mutters, taking in the bruising that covers Michael's neck. Alex starts to tug on Michael's shirt, needing to see the extent of the damage.

Michael flails his hands then, intuitively trying to resist, futile though it may be. Alex easily catches the hands, "It's ok, I gotcha, you're ok," Alex soothes as Michael's hands calm.

Alex's breath catches as he uncovers the tattoos that he's spent so long studying. Even covered in bruising the tattoos are amazing, the design startling in its beauty and technicality. Alex's fingers lightly graze over the lines, before being stopped by a large bruise covering Michael's ribs.

Michael flinches at the touch, and Alex finishes pulling the shirt up, trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Shit," he whispers, identifying electrical burns branching across the skin, knife wounds surrounded by cracked blood, three cracked ribs hidden in the bruises, and a whole host of burns to fill in any of the gaps.

"Michael?" Alex asks, gently shaking the younger man. It takes three tries before he receives a pained groan in response.

"Michael? Come on, Michael, open your eyes for me," Alex lightly coaxes. He needs to know if there's anything he's missed, and unfortunately, having Michael awake is the best way to find that out. At the very least, he would feel better after assessing Michael's mental status.

Michael hurts. He hurts all over, head to toe. Someone's talking but he doesn't want to listen. People have been talking and yelling and questioning him for _days_ now, and he just can't anymore.

They're shaking him now, trying to get his attention. Lincoln? Could it be Lincoln?

"Linc?" Michael whimpers out in response to the jostling. He manages to blink one eye open, looking dazedly around the room.

This voice is soothing, though. Familiar somehow. He thinks he might know it, but he can't quite figure it out.

"Michael? Michael stay with me for a minute, it's Alex."

No, of course not. If Linc was here Michael wouldn't be getting the shit beaten out of him. Linc wouldn't let that happen. Alex, it's Alex. Why is Alex here?

"'Lex? Where'm I?" Michael says, hands coming up again.

He lifts his hands, and it feels like fire. Michael hears a breathy whine, and thinks he might have been the one to make it.

Alex is concerned, though not necessarily surprised, that Michael can't seem to focus on Alex.

"You're…We're in Sona, in Panama," Alex responds honestly, gently cupping Michael's face and stroking away a tear that's steadily dripping down the younger man's face.

"Michael, do you remember what happened?" Alex quietly asks.

"Guards?" Michael groans, head turning into Alex's hand, simultaneously seeking shelter and comfort.

"Yes, there were guards," Alex agrees. "Can you tell me if you're…" Alex trails off, realizing the futility of asking if the other man is hurt, or in pain. Michael shifts again, clearly trying to get comfortable, and whimpers as pain is the only thing that greets him.

Michael inhales sharply as he tries to move to relieve some of the pressure from his back. Alex sees the movement, and closes his eyes in sympathy for what's to come.

"Michael, I need to sit you up, ok? I need to know how bad it is. Can you help me with that?" Alex asks, ducking into Michael's line of sight.

Michael thinks it takes him longer than it should to process the words, and he nearly sobs in response, both at the thought of having to move, and at the hope that his back might feel some relief.

That's been his world in this prison so far, though. Pain interspersed with short bursts of respite that offer more taunt than relief. At least he should be used to it by now.

"I'm sorry, Michael," he hears the older man say. Alex rearranges himself so that he can prop Michael up into a sitting position.

The movement is enough that Michael would've screamed if he could've. As it stands, he thinks the action may cause more pain than it's really worth. He offers a deep groan instead, as Alex tugs the shirt up enough to see what look like whip marks on Michael's back. None of the marks appear deep enough to have done serious damage, but without basic medical supplies "serious damage" is kind of relative.

"Dammit," Alex says, shifting so Michael is able to lean forward against him.

Michael obligingly leans onto Alex's shoulder, eyes closed as he takes controlled breathes through his nose in an effort to prevent him from breathing too deeply.

"You don't do anything by halves, do you?" Alex asks, running a soothing hand over Michael's buzzed hair.

"Ngh," Michael manages in response. "lex?"

"Yeah, Michael?"

"Don't f'l g'd," Michael mumbles.

"I know, Michael, I know. I gotcha" Alex murmurs.

Alex is surprised as his paternal instincts seem to kick into high gear in the moment. He shouldn't be, he figures, as he cradles the younger man, whispering assurances; but Alex knows in this moment that he will be protecting Michael, and it will have nothing to do with a potential prison break and everything to do with making sure Michael never has to experience this much pain again.

He spent months tracking Michael Scofield, and Alex knows how strong the man is. He also knows that neither one of them deserve to be in this prison. Listening to Michael's pained groans seems to remind Alex that Michael isn't actually a master criminal. Circumstances necessitated Michael's actions, and now they're both being punished by The Company. Alex killed someone-he gave them an easy target. Michael, though, was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, instead of hunting Michael, it seems like Alex will be switching to witness protection duty.

"It's gonna be ok, Michael," he continues, even as he feels Michael go slack, unconsciousness dragging the him down again.

Alex gently lays the younger man down, already making a list of supplies he's going to need from T-Bag.

"It's gonna be ok," he says again, deciding that he won't let there be any other options.


End file.
